The We Hate Buffy Club
by mistymidnight
Summary: Sunndale's demons are sick and tired of Buffy, so they unite...and complain.


**Title: **The We Hate Buffy Club

**Author:** mistymidnight

**Feedback! **misty2080@hotmail.com

**Rating: **PG

**Timeline:** Ahhh, who cares? Season four or five, maybe.

**Spoilers:** Umm, no specific ones I can think of.

**Disclaimer:** Okay, we all know that the Buffy writers have a certain amount of imagination, but do _you_ think they came up with this? *sighs* Okay, the characters are Joss's. The story's mine. 

**Dedication:** To Tracey, Audra, and Erica, from whose minds (and mine, even though Buffy rocks!) the idea for "The We Hate Buffy Club" began. And always, to Dad, who is most definitely president of the human branch of TWHBC.

**Summary:** Sunnydale's demons are sick of Buffy, so they decide to unite…and complain.

**The We Hate Buffy Club**

            The demon with the microphone stood up in front of the crowd of demons, vampires, assorted fiends, and whatever else the Hellmouth could manage to cough up. "All right," he said. "This meeting of the We Hate Buffy Club will now come to order. We begin by singing the club theme song. Maestro?" The piano-playing demon at the corner struck up the first chords of the theme song. Then the Club sang together: 

                        _Oh there's a certain Slayer_

_                        You'll know it when you see_

_                        She kills our kind and others_

_                        With a certain kind of glee._

_                        If you see her a-comin'_

_                        There's nothing you can do,_

_                        'Cause when she's done with the apocalypse,_

_                        She'll move right on to you!_

_                        Oh, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,_

_                        We hate you without fail_

_                        From the time we're children*_

_                        To our final deathbed wail_

_                        Oh Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,_

_                        That's why we formed this club_

_                        To sit and wait in hopes of_

_                        The day your slaying's flubbed!_

_**Note that "children" is a changeable term amongst demons. At this line in the song, there are various cries changing the lyrics to "hatchlings" "larvae" "babies" "Satan spawn", etc. Thank you. _J**

            The lead demon surveyed the group with satisfaction. "All right, first order of business. The T-shirts came in today!" He held up a T-shirt the proudly declared "I Am A Member Of The We Hate Buffy Club!" A picture of Buffy with a big "X" over it was splashed across the front. He turned it around to show the back, which asked, "Are You?" 

            Demons cheered ecstatically at the shirt. "Pick up yours at the close of the meeting!" The demon said. "And don't forget, those who have not paid their membership dues don't get one 'til they pay up!"

            There was a shuffling sound as those assembled reached for their wallets in search of their dues.

            "Now, next order of business. We have new pledges tonight who will observe the club before becoming members. Will the pledges please come forward?" A few of the congregated stepped toward the stage.

            "Any questions?" the de head demon asked.

            One of the pledges, a slimy squid-like creature that balanced on its tentacles to get around, raised a tentacle. "Yes?" el demon presidente asked.

            "Uh, why is it the We Hate _Buffy_ Club? Why isn't it the We Hate _Slayers_ Club?"

            "Because, my fine tentacled demon brother, we hate _this_ Slayer most of all."

            "Why is that?"

            The WHBC president scowled. "If I knew how to, I'd kill you for your silly questions." He sighed and explained anyway. "She has killed more of our kind than the last three Slayers and the other current one put together. Plus, she makes very annoying puns as she kills us."

            "She punned my brother!" came a shout from the back of the room. There were collective gasps from the crowd.

            "She told my boyfriend he had bad clothing taste!"

            And she has _friends_!!!" shouted another.

            "I don't get it," said Tentacles. "How is that so bad?"

            The demon looked positively furious. "OUT!!!!" he ordered.

            Tentacles huffed out the back exit of the rented hall at the Elks Club.

            "Good," said the demon. "Now, where were we?"

* * *

            Buffy frowned as she staked a vampire in Restfield Cemetery.

            "Hmm, that's the eighth one tonight," she muttered. "Weird."

            "Busy patrol, luv?" Spike asked, appearing from the shadows.

            "Sorta," Buffy said, "but that's not what worries me."

            "Well, what is it then?"

            Buffy shook her head. "Nothing. I'm off duty. Patrol if you want. I've gotta get some sleep." She walked off, muttering to herself and shaking her head.

            Spike smiled as he remembered the last conversation he'd had at Willie's. "Gotta get me one of those T-Shirts," he smiled to himself.


End file.
